


The Jig is Up

by Raven_Silversea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Harry Potter is Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Pre-Arcobaleno Curse (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Silversea/pseuds/Raven_Silversea
Summary: Harry just isn't very good at not being Harry, even if he purposely designed Skull de Mort's personality to be easy to fake
Comments: 47
Kudos: 740
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Identity Crisis





	The Jig is Up

**Author's Note:**

> René Sansez is my pre-curse name for Reborn. I have a plan for this to have 4 chapters, but they're not written yet. It might take a bit for me to update as an FYI

Harry’s fork clinks against his plate as he stabs his pile of spaghetti noodles perhaps too harshly then needed. He slowly spins his fork, gathering his next bite. Tapping his foot on the tile floor beneath the table, he ignores René’s darkening glares as Harry refuses to stop leaning on his fist. ‘No elbows on the table’ was a stupid rule anyway.

“What about Borgia?” Lal asks. She reaches for her water glass. “He certainly seemed jumpy while we were there.”

Fon hums consideringly behind his napkin. “Perhaps, though I think he would have a difficult time explaining frequent disappearances,” he says as he sets the blue cloth down.

“Borgia’s too busy meeting the maids in broom closets to be our man,” René says, jabbing his salad sharply. “And will you please pretend to have manners?” He upgrades to openly glaring across the table at Harry who simply raises an eyebrow and takes another bite of his dinner.

“Have plenty experience with that, René?” Verde asks. He absentmindedly takes a bit of his own salad, and Harry shakes his head. How can he be so casual about food?

René gives Verde a very cold look. “I have no idea what you’re implying,” he says, taking a pointed sip of his drink.

“Myu, they do say it takes one to know one,” Viper says, and choked laughter erupts around the table.

Harry’s still smiling as he begins to gather his next bite of spaghetti. “It’s the gardener,” he says. In the ensuing silence, he realizes that Skull wasn’t supposed to contribute to the theorizing, especially not with one of Harry’s half-thought out theories.

“Do you,” Lal’s clearly trying not to openly mock him, “have any proof of that?”

Harry grits his teeth and takes a bite of his food. He can’t exactly explain that no one really notices the person weeding the flower bed just below his window- his aunt and uncle certainly hadn’t- without being the first to break in the unofficial game of information keep away. “I just know it is,” he says. “Who else could listen in on all the super secret conversations and not be noticed even when leaving the premises?”

“If we’re going by that extremely flawed logic,” René looks like he’d rather chew nails then even consider Harry’s theory, and Harry’s grip tightens on his fork, “then any of the other fifty servants currently employed by the family.”

“The don’s inner circle is far more likely to know all the details needed to interfere with the family’s trades,” Fon explains with a soft smile. Harry resists the urge to curse it off his face.

Rolling his eyes, Harry says, “So your brilliant idea is to walk up to the don and tell him one of his guardians- a position all of you say is a honor to have- is a traitor.” His fork clacks against his plate. “It’s the gardener, and I’ll prove it.”

“You do that,” Lal says, looking at her plate.

“And get your elbow off the table!” René snaps, swiping at the offending elbow from across the table. “Were you raised in a barn?”

~*~

It was all too easy to slip away from the others and conduct his own investigation. In fact, all of them had made it rather clear that they didn’t need Harry’s help at all with Verde and Viper digging through the records room while the other three intimidated people into giving them alibis. 

Harry joins the throng of servants moving through the hallways. Black and white suited butlers and maids barely spare him a concerned glance as he ambles down the hall with his hands tucked into his pants pockets. The gardener is still his preferred bet, but there’s no harm in seeing who else has the time and ability to not be noticed during a long meeting. Scanning the servants bustling around him with vases of flowers, food carts, laundry, and occasionally empty-handed, Harry dismisses all of them from his mental list. It doesn’t take that long to complete a single task, and it would be odd if one of them lingered in the meeting room afterwards because they would have a long list to complete by the end of the day.

Harry stops a passing maid. “Excuse me,” he says, “but could you direct me to who’s in charge of the household’s servants please?”

The maid points behind herself. “Down that hall, take a left, then the second right,” she says. “His office is the first one on the left.” She bustles off before Harry can tell her thank you.

Harry continues his slow pace as he follows the maid’s directions. Finding himself in front of the dark wood door, identical to essentially every other door in the manor house, he raps on it. There’s a faint sound of something shuffling around inside the room before the door opens, revealing a blond haired man with a short, falling apart ponytail and brown-rimmed glasses. “I don’t suppose you’re one of my new hires?” he asks.

“’Fraid not.” Harry smiles sheepishly. “Name’s Skull de Mort, and I have the dubious pleasure of working with the intimidation squad upstairs.”

The man makes a strangled noise but waves Harry inside his office, shutting the door behind him. “I am Marco de Rosa,” he says as he steps around Harry to stand behind his dark-wood desk. “What do I owe this pleasure? I was told only the working members,” Marco’s lip twists, “of the family were going to be under investigation.”

Harry shrugs. “Had some time on my hands, figured I’d be more useful clearing the servants. Personally, I think there’s already too many cooks cooking in that kitchen, so the worst case scenario is that I waste my own time.”

Marco tilts his head in acknowledgment. “How can I assist you, Mr. De Mort?”

“I need the records and schedules of anyone who assigned to longer tasks in or directly around the meeting room,” Harry says. “I’m not interested in the people who spend a few minutes washing the windows or taking out the trash.”

“Just the ones who would have enough time to listen in on the meeting proper.” Marco nods. He walks over to the gray file cabinet in the corner of the room. “Fortunately for both of us, that eliminates pretty much everyone.” He flips through the personnel folders, pulling out one every now and then. Gathering the stack, he places the appropriate files on the desk in front of Harry who pulls a chair over to start going through them. “I think all that’s left are the gardeners, the don’s personal aide, and the scribe.”

“Scribe?”

Marco hums, pulling a file from the center of the stack and opening it. He taps the photo of a square-jawed man with piercing blue eyes. “Carrizo Valor,” Marco says. “He transcribes all the don’s important meetings to ensure no one’s skimming off the top of the larger trades.”

Harry pulls Valor’s file closer and reads through it carefully. The man had been hired three years ago and was promoted to scribe just over a year and a half ago when the previous scribe had been founded shot in an alley. Assumed cause of death was a sloppy hit or a case of wrong place-wrong time. If Harry remembered correctly, the family’s drug and weapons runs started getting intercepted about a year ago- just enough time to potentially keep eyes from immediately turning to the new scribe. 

He drums his fingers on the desk. Carrizo Doolahn Valor. Carrizo certainly sounds Italian, he’ll give the man that, but Valor’s a strange surname for someone claiming to be a native, nevermind the fact Doolahn sounds suspiciously Gaelic. 

“Can I borrow this?” he asks, holding up Valor’s file.

Marco shrugs. “Not like I can argue with you. Just bring it back when you’re finished.”

Harry gives Marco a final nod and leaves the office. He hopes Valor was stupid enough to simply use an anagram of his actual name to get his fake name. Now, just to remember the spell, get the possible names, and throw them at Viper to see if any hold weight. If not, well, surely the mishmash of names will be equally suspicious to the others as it is to him. 

~*~

The records room looks like a tornado blew through it, and Harry blinks uncomprehendingly from the doorway. Viper flips through files and smacks them down on the table while Verde simply glares at them across the table. His arms are crossed, and his green hair has white flecks of dust clinging to it. “Do you have a quick moment, Viper?” Harry asks quietly.

Viper slams their hands on top of the files they’re going through and whips their head around to look at Harry. “I don’t, in fact, have a quick moment, Skull,” they say. Their teeth are bared in a tense smile; it’s easy for Harry to imagine their eye twitching as they speak. He forces himself not to laugh. “As you can see, I am currently surrounded by hundreds of files to go through and an uncooperative assistant.” They slowly turn their head to snarl at Verde.

Verde’s lip curls. “You’re the one who told me to cease and desist because you had a system that I was messing up,” he says, drumming his fingers on his arm. 

Harry steps further into the room and places his list in front of Viper before the illusionist could potentially throw themselves across the table to strangle Verde. “I just need to know if any of these names mean anything to you?”

Viper sighs but drags the list over. “Where did you get these?” they ask.

Harry jerks his head back towards the door as he crosses his arms. “Went deep diving into the servant’s personnel files.”

“The traitor is not a servant,” Verde pushes his glasses up his nose. “We already discussed this.”

Viper tosses the paper at Harry who scrambles to grab it as it floats to the ground. “Orlova is the feminized form of Orlov,” they say. 

“Russian?” Harry asks as he straightens. He forces himself not to wince when Verde’s eyes narrow behind his glasses. Skull’s a stuntdriver; Harry could easily say he’s done shows in or around Russia. There’s no reason to believe he’s blown another hole into his cover.

“Myu, a trade family hired to transport goods across the border.” Viper turns back to their stack of records, and Harry’s grin grows.

“So what you’re saying is, they would have a motive to steal valuable goods from others in order to make more money?” 

Verde opens and closes his mouth for a moment. He looks across the table at Viper who has gone eerily still. 

Harry continues, “It might also interest you to know that this name is an anagram of the name of the don’s scribe who attends all important meetings.” He places the list back on the table and taps the name in question. He then begins walking out of the room, pausing at the door. “But it’s totally one of the don’s inner circle,” he says just before shutting the door behind him.

~*~

Lal drums her thumbs against the steering wheel as Skull passes the car on his bike. He quickly vanishes from sight as he weaves between the other cars on the road, and she shakes her head. “How’d he do it?” 

Verde mutters something from the backseat, and the scratching of his pencil gets louder. René stares out the windshield beside her; his exact expression hidden beneath the shadow his fedora. A few moments pass. Lal curses idiot drivers under her breath as she slams the breaks when someone changes lanes suddenly. “He shouldn’t have been able to,” René says. “Unless he was involved somehow.”

“Or lying.”

“Statistically, all of us are lying.” Lal watches Verde push his glasses up his nose through the rearview mirror.

René hums and shifts in his seat, propping one leg up on the other. “Some seem to be lying more than others,” he says. “A stunt driver who can’t drive a car?”

Lal grimaces. At first, she thought Skull’s preference for driving his bike was his Cloud tendencies coming through, but when asked to drive one of the cars, he had scratched the back of his head and looked down at his feet with an awkward laugh. René had even put him behind the wheel anyway; Skull had promptly ran the car into a tree much to Viper’s displeasure.

“You think he’s foreign mafia then?”

René shrugs. “He’s something. Thinks too much like a spy if you ask me.”

That’s not a pleasant thought, even Verde’s pencil stops scratching in the silence that follows. “Perhaps it was just a fluke,” Lal offers. “He certainly seems back to normal if a little smug.”

René hums but doesn’t say anything else. Lal turns off the highway, and the rest of the drive back to the mansion is quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://ravensilversea.tumblr.com/) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/Raven_Silversea)


End file.
